So Close, No Matter How Far
by Val-Creative
Summary: Lance and Pidge glimpse into the memories and the past intertwining the original Blue Paladin and original Green Paladin. /Season 1-centric. Plance. Oneshot.


**.**

 **.**

All he wants to do is _sleep_.

Lance thuds his head periodically back against the seat to his Lion, to keep himself from yawning or drifting off. It's too damn early for this. The peeks of orangish gold morning on this abandoned, rocky planet they staying on barely touches the horizon.

Coran's voice booms through the comm.-link activating inside Lance's helmet.

"Paladins, this starts as an individual activity with your Lion. We'll practicing outside the castleship for the duration. You need to get used to being connected with your Lion, all of its memories and its psyche, but you also need to be connected with each other when it's necessary for it. You will all extend your minds to each other, melding your focus—"

"—we get it, yadda _yadda_ ," Lance speaks up, reclining further backwards and doing a poor job of muffling a yawn into his upper arm. One of his cyan-blue, glowing holo-screens flickers to life with oncoming transmissions. " _Teambuilding_ and all that good stuff."

Keith's face emerges on the far-most left corner of the screen. The rest of the paladins follow. "Lance, would you mind taking this a little more seriously?" he asks, frowning deeply.

A low, mock-offended noise.

"I'm _super_ serious. All of the time," Lance proclaims, kicking up his feet to the piloting module and winking, clucking his tongue behind his teeth. "Ain't that right, Pidge?"

Through her helmet-visor, Pidge raises her eyebrows, letting out a disbelieving laugh.

"Totally," she mumbles, checking her equipment. "A serious pain in the—"

"— _HEY!_ " Lance yells, jerking upright.

Shiro's holo-image, right at the center of the faces, winces visibly at the commotion before he firmly states, "Alright, team. Let's concentrate on what we can accomplish _together_."

Lance huffs and throws up his arms, grumbling at nothing in particular. He shuts his eyes, gripping lightly around the handheld controls to the Blue Lion. Everything's getting pleasantly warm and drowsy and heavy again, as if he's gonna manage to fall asleep right there—

— _and when the Blue Lion's mouth-gate widens open, Blaytz leaps out, grinning proudly and toothily. "Did you see that aerial streak? That was incredible!" he exclaims, posing with his hands on his hips and beaming down at the original Green Paladin. "I've never felt such a rush in my life!" Trigel only chuckles, opening her arms to embrace him when the original Blue Paladin rushes forward, pulling her in, off her feet, and spinning them excitedly into a circle—_

— _and there's no place for her in the Dalterion Belt, not when it's considered treasonous to apologetically show fondness for an outsider. Blatyz's palm skims over Trigel's armored stomach, where the twin-sacs of their eggs are newly ripen. She can never be sorry for their happiness and for Voltron's success, and she wouldn't ever think of leaving them behind—_

— _and he's not close enough to grab the polearm, clutching at his fatal injury when the the hordes and hordes of Galran sentries appear, presenting their blasters and keeping them from escaping into the duststorm. "Leave," Blatyz whispers quietly, slumping over Trigel frantically eyeing the ruins and crying out in frustration when Zarkon's shadow approaches, gigantic and dark. "Not without you," Trigel mutters, tugging his arm over her shoulders, reaching for one of his scimitars from his holster and pointing it at their enemy—_

—and Lance wakes violently, perspiring through his underclothes and heaving for air.

" _STOP!_ "

What sounds like Pidge roaring out and banging her fists over her piloting module seeps in. He throws off his helmet, racing onto his feet as the Blue Lion powers down, opening up its hatches.

"Guys, what the hell is going on?" Shiro calls out. "Pidge! _Everyone_!"

Morning light seeps into his eyes. Lance scrambles to get to the Green Lion, unable to focus on anything else, his heart rattling up into his throat. There's a sharp-hot aroma in the wind that blows on his cheeks and nose. The metallic ramp to the Green Lion whirs down to Lance's feet.

She's bathed in the low-dim of Altean energy, curled up into the pilot's seat. As soon as Lance touches her shoulders, horrified and concerned, Pidge's eyes widen, spilling gleaming tears.

"I saw— _I saw it happen_ —"

"Zarkon," Lance says dully. His head feels weird and throbbing, like someone tried to crawl inside his own brain, invading and filling it with anguishing memories. "He—"

Pidge's chest hitches. "They couldn't stop him— _they're dead, they're_ —" she sobs, now uncontrollably, dropping her forehead onto Lance's uniformed front when he hugs her, resting his fingertips against her helmet and practically dragging himself into the seat with her.

 **.**

 **.**

There's no other explanation: the Lions showed them vivid-bright glimpses of the past, no matter how terrifying and emotionally devastating the results would be.

Coran advises Allura and the rest of the paladins to give them space, backing out.

Lance's head nestles on his washed, plain bedding, right up against Pidge's own head. They're lying on their backs in opposite directions, with their socked feet pressing up flatly against the bedroom's walls, their cheeks grazing and their shoulders nudging together.

" _Why show us that_ …?"

His question sounds deadened, but Lance's ribcage feels tight and painful, his eyes welling up.

Pidge doesn't answer him, but her head turns a little in his direction. He gazes sideways at her freckled nose and those auburn, fluffy curls, inhaling the tiniest hint of Pidge's soap.

"Thanks, Lance," she whispers. "For coming to get me. When I was freaking out in my Lion."

Her pale fingers rise, when Lance's hand stretches up, hooking into his. "Still a pain?" Lance breathes out, smiling and feeling moisture trickling out of the corners of his eyes.

Pidge scrunches her features, warmed and reddened from crying.

"Always."

 **.**

 **.**

* * *

 _Voltron isn't mine. I've been sitting with the knowledge of Blaytz and Trigel having died together in battle, protecting each other and fighting Zarkon for SO LONG. I NEEDED TO DO SOMETHING WITH IT BUT I WANTED PLANCE TO BE INVOLVED TOO. Mostly Plance. This is a Plance-centric story, but it involves the heart-wrenching and kinda really unapologetically brutal history of the Blue Paladin(s) and the Green Paladin(s). SO MANY FEELS. Thoughts/comments are soooooo appreciated!  
_


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